


The New Math

by Corinna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Elliott is meant to be the kid from ET all grown up but that's not important, M/M, Matchmaking, Science, Sentient Atlantis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-25
Updated: 2006-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, like your idea was so much better,” John muttered. “You know, he’s not even a real doctor.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began as an e-mail exchange with Martha and was made better by Speranza, Punk, and Shana. Lucy, gchick, and the Spike listened. Thank you all.

It started with the surprise attack on M4X-588. Lorne’s team had come in to provide assistance, and though they’d all gotten out OK, they were pretty banged up, and pretty much everyone spent the next couple of hours getting patched up and checked out by Beckett’s team. Mostly, they were just achy and beat — John bet that everybody would be fine once they’d had a shower, a meal, and a good night’s sleep. But Beckett had his procedures, so they were all getting blood drawn and wounds disinfected and bandages applied. Rodney had been the first one bandaged up (“it may seem like a minor scrape, but it was the branch of a tree totally unknown to science!”), but he was always the last one to get blood drawn, since only Dr. Cavendish could consistently find the vein on the first try and had to be called out of her lab for the procedure (“I told you I had mobile veins the very first time, Carson, but you never listen, do you?”). He’d gotten a lab tech to bring him a powerbar, though, so he was reasonably content to sit next to John on the exam table and wait. John was happy for the quiet. 

“You look beat, sir,” said Lorne. 

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, Major. If I could send you guys off to a bar in town tonight, I would.” 

“If you could, sir, we’d go,” said Sergeant Davis. 

“I appreciate your commitment to the chain of command, Sergeant.” John rolled his head left and right experimentally, listening for any crinkles or pops that hadn’t been there that morning. “You know, once we’ve got this little Wraith problem under control, we should see if we could get someone out here to set up a vacation planet. Like they had on _Star Trek_. We could use that.” 

“Typical,” said Rodney, not looking up from his tablet PC. “A galaxy full of uncharted wonders, and you want to recreate Vegas.” 

“I was thinking more like Hawaii, actually.” 

“Hawaii? Not enough sand and surf on Atlantis for you?” 

“Not enough girls in bikinis bringing margaritas to my beach chair.” Teyla raised an eyebrow at him, and John gave her his most innocent grin. “I tip really well,” he said. 

Lorne got a dreamy, nostalgic look. “I went to Oahu on leave in 2003. That was a time.” 

“Oahu’s great,” John said. “My last trip, though? I was on the big island. Not so much with the white sand beaches, but some seriously sweet out-of-the-way breaks. Went to one you had to copter in to. Plus, you go in the winter, you can surf in the morning, and snowboard in the afternoon. Can’t beat that.” 

“Snowboard, sir?” Davis said incredulously. “Really?” 

“Well, it’s not Telluride. But there’s some serious snowboarding on Mauna Kea in the winters.” 

Rodney’s head jerked up at the name. “Mauna Kea?” 

“You know it?” John asked. 

“Of course I know it. If you were interested in something other than finding new and exciting ways to break your own neck, you might have noticed Earth’s largest astronomical observatory near the summit. Including the CFHT.” 

John gave him the confused eyebrow-raise. 

“The Canada-France-Hawaii Telescope,” Rodney explained condescendingly. 

“Canada’s working with France,” said Lorne. “I should’ve guessed.” 

“Yes, I’m so insulted by your withering geopolitical putdown, Major.” 

“Did you do research there?” John asked. He hadn’t spent much time observing the locals, except the ones he met in the hotel bar, but he couldn’t quite picture Rodney adapting to what all the tourism posters called the aloha attitude. 

“No,” said Rodney. He looked strangely embarrassed. “But, ah, that is, I knew someone in graduate school who got a fellowship to spend a semester there, and I visited. It’s a fantastic observatory — the atmosphere is amazingly clear, perfect for long-range imaging, and the breakthroughs they’ve made there are, well, not a surprise to anyone here, I mean any of the _scientists_ , but still important work if they’re ever going to catch up. Plus, of course, the coffee was excellent. And we ate really well.” He smiled at that, nostalgic and fond and a little bit hungry. 

John had a quick shivery flash of his last night in Hawaii, and the Jacuzzi in his hotel room, but instead of the hot blonde he’d met on the mountain and taken to dinner, it was Rodney leaning into him, Rodney climbing on top of him with a wicked smile and a supercharged kiss. _Whoa_ , John thought, shaking his head clear, _I really do need a vacation._

* * *

“There’s a whole Ancient approach to problem-solving built into the algorithms of the city,” Rodney said. “It’s not the math that’s different, it’s the way they thought about the solution. Once I realized that, things got a lot simpler.” 

“Different equations, same results,” said John. 

“That’s not quite — well, close enough. Anyway, we’ve made remarkable strides since my breakthrough. I should have tried thinking like an Ancient months ago.” 

“I guess that’s why SG-1 has an anthropologist,” John said. 

He’d mistimed the comment, because Rodney had moved far enough out from under the puddlejumper that he didn’t hit his head when he jerked up in surprise. “What? You say things like that just to get a rise out of me. SG-1 has an anthropologist because Dr. Jackson leads an even more charmed existence than certain Air Force colonels I could name, not because his oh-so-scientific studies ofÃâ° whatever it is he does have any actual merit. Five-centimeter wrench.” 

Flying over to the mainland a few weeks earlier, John had had an idea about how to improve the jumper’s fuel consumption ratios. Rodney wouldn’t let anyone else do the experiment, and John wouldn’t let Rodney do it without him, so he was spending the afternoon in the jumper bay, catching up on his paperwork and handing Rodney tools as he shouted for them. 

“Jeez. Did an anthropologist kill your dog?” 

Rodney gave him an almost pitying look. “If you must know, I’ve always considered myself more of a cat person. They’re clean, they’re intelligent, and they know how to find their own way home.” 

John couldn’t resist winding him up just a little more. “Don’t dogs do that too? I mean —” 

“Go turn on that panel,” Rodney said, a little sharply. “The white one, next to the clear one, middle of the wall.” 

“The center one?” 

“Yeah, the white one.” 

“I got it.” John put his laptop down and walked over to the wall. “Ready?” 

“Fine, yes, this should be it.” 

John put his hand to the panel. There was a sound like a bundle of sticks being broken, and everything in the jumper bay went dark. 

“Or,” said John, “maybe not.” 

* * *

Everyone talked about John’s ability to connect with Atlantis, but the fact of the matter was, at first, it wasn’t much of a connection. There’d been that weird pull to sit in the chair back in Antarctica, like an itch somewhere deep beneath the skin, but when they’d got to the city itself? Nothing. It was just like operating any other remote control, once you got past the part about doing it with your mind. 

That is, until after they held off the Wraith, and installed the ZPM. Even more so after he got back from their trip back to Earth, and found the science team had spent most of their time powering up new systems in the city. Then it was like going from black and white to Technicolor. The city was with him all the time, a presence at the base of his skull, almost imperceptibly riding along, asking, offering, suggesting. He fought it, swatting at his head like he was shaking off a fly, or finding excuses to go help out on the mainland. But after a while he found himself starting to get used to it, or it to him. When he came back from the ascension sanctuary and Atlantis seemed to recognize how long he’d been gone — the lights in his room soft and welcoming, the water in the shower exactly as hot as he liked it, and the communications systems shorting out to keep Elizabeth from waking him early for a debrief — she had finally won him over completely. 

There was a deep hum to the place, he’d come to realize, a presence, serene and vigilant, just beneath the surface of things. When he got an afternoon off a few days after they got the jumper bay back online, a bright sunny day with a little bit of cloud cover, he used it as a chance to go find a balcony by the north pier where he could watch the sky and the sea, and just listen to Atlantis. Hang out, make sure they were still OK despite his having taken out the power to roughly a whole city block for a day and a half. He hadn’t been able to do much on the repairs — Rodney got a team of scientists into the jumper bay, and with all of them swarming all over the place, there wasn’t much need for him. Even Rodney got caught up in a shouting fight with Zelenka, and barely noticed when John left. But John could do this, now, for the city, which no one else could. 

There was a set of what looked like Ancient beach chairs out on the balcony, like they were waiting for him, and he pulled off his shirt and his boots and got comfortable. The gentle rhythm of the water against the pier and the city’s steady thrum were relaxing sounds, and he could lean back and let them wash over him, lulling him into an almost-sleep as he soaked in the sunshine. It was perfectly, blissfully quiet. 

“Goddammit!” The crash of metal on metal and the frustrated shout pulled John out of his chair and into a fighting stance, crouched and wary. 

“Who’s there?” he called. 

“Colonel?” Rodney peered out through the door. He was hunched over, and looked worried. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Well, I thought I was getting some peace and quiet,” John said. He relaxed his guard and stared down at McKay, who was, he could now see, bent over an open panel in the corridor wall with an open toolbox at his feet. “What are you doing?” 

Rodney dove into his toolbox, searching through the equipment, as John walked towards the door. Without looking up, he explained, “There’s some sort of local circuitry malfunction we couldn’t troubleshoot from the control room. I came to check it out in person.” 

John frowned. He hadn’t felt anything wrong so far. He touched the wall and reached out a little with his mind, probing. Still nothing. The city was humming away same as she always did. “You sure?” 

“Sure? What do you mean?” Rodney whipped his head up to glare at John, and waved some sort of electronic sensor device threateningly in his direction. “I’m the chief scientist here. I think I can manage to read an erratic power consumption level correctly.” 

“Well, it’s just —” John hated talking about his connection to the city. When he tried, it tended to lead to lectures from Elizabeth about how much they still had to learn from the Ancients, or some scientist looking at him like he was this week’s dissection project. “Let me look at it.” 

Rodney scrambled back from the panel as John strode towards it. “You know, I would have thought you’d have realized by now that just because a genetic accident makes you more compatible with the system’s interfaces than anyone else here, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you can actually fix or even identify — ” 

John ignored him and peered in at the exposed circuits. Nothing was telling him it was in trouble, but in the middle of a nest of Ancient I/O lines and microcontrollers there was a small white cylindrical tube that he could have sworn was supposed to be rotating. He leaned over and reached for it. 

_Zzzt!_ The charge slammed through him, and he was knocked back on his ass, arms flailing as he tried to break his fall. 

“Colonel!” Rodney was kneeling right next to him, eyes wide and worried. He wrapped his hands around the back of John’s head and forced him to meet his gaze. “Are you OK? Do you know where you are? What year is it?” 

“Rodney. I’m fine.” The shock was still lighting up his nerves, and he had to blink a few times to keep focus as he batted Rodney’s hands away. “I’m in Atlantis, it’s Thursday, I’m fine.” 

“Fine? That thing threw you across the hall, you’re not fine! And, how did it do that? There shouldn’t have been enough power in there for that to happen in the first place. I isolated this corridor before I came up here. What did you do to it?” 

“I just touched it,” John protested. He got his hands beneath himself, and started to push himself up to a seated position, but Rodney glared and knocked him back down to his elbows. 

“Electric shock can affect muscle coordination, brain function, lung activity, oh God, _circulation_. How’s your heart rate?” Rodney reached up to find the pulse on John’s neck, and John tilted his head back a little, making room. With Rodney’s left hand pressed to his throat, his pulse pounded hard against the skin. Rodney’s other hand was still flat against John’s bare chest. John was suddenly aware of the heat of Rodney’s hands, the warm scent of his body, the rough of stubble on his jawline. Something in the back of his mind urged him to lean into the touch — _yes, now, him._

Their eyes met, and John’s mouth went dry. This was ridiculous: Rodney was his teammate, his friend. John wasn’t about to fuck that up, and anyway, since when was he hot for Rodney anyhow? He turned away with a little self-conscious laugh. Rodney sat back on his heels, curling his hands into loose fists. John climbed to his feet without looking at him again. 

“Well, you seem fine,” Rodney said. “You should let Carson check you out anyway.” 

“It was just a little jolt.” The shock faded a lot more quickly than it had when his engineering homework went south on him in school. He actually did feel fine now, except for the rapidly-fading heat of arousal and an odd distant sense of disappointment. 

In the circuit panel, the little white cylinder was rotating smoothly and evenly, like it had never had any reason to stop. 

* * *

The problem with the circuitry turned out to be only the start of a rash of malfunctions. John could handle a little electric zap for his role in the jumper bay mess — turnabout was fair play and all — but apparently he’d pissed Atlantis off worse than he’d realized, because all of the problems seemed to be aimed directly at him. The lights in the labs dimmed to half-strength when he walked in. Transporters took him to places he didn’t want to go — he’d ask for the jumper bay and end up over by the mess hall, getting pulled into the lunch line with the rest of his team. And a regularly-scheduled security drill went haywire, leaving him trapped in a stairwell with McKay and his claustrophobia for a full hour: when Ronon finally blew up a door to get them out, John was ready to give him a medal. _Let me make it up to you_ , John offered, desperate enough to pretend he knew how, but the city just kept humming along, assuring him that nothing at all was the matter. Which was, John thought, so typically female of her. 

Rodney had no difficulty telling John exactly what was wrong, in a lot more detail than he wanted, when they set off on their next mission. It was just the two of them on this trip; after yet another glitch had stranded Sheppard’s team on M4P-525 overnight, Teyla had asked for a few days off to spend back on the mainland, and Ronon had gone with her. John couldn’t blame either of them. The sunset on M4P-525 had been spectacular, but the packs of rabid hyena-type-things that came out after dark really spoiled the effect. After a mission like that, anyone would want a few days’ downtime. 

“Just because this recent round of Ancient technology malfunctions — which I will get to the bottom of, believe me — means that half the time things won’t even start until you grace them with your presence does not mean that the exploration of the uninhabited areas of the city should be completely contingent on your schedule,” Rodney was saying. 

Three days earlier, Rodney had woken him from a deep sleep with the demand that he come down to the labs immediately to help with something Rodney was sure was a new Ancient weapon. John had thrown on a T-shirt and pants and run down to initialize what turned out to be the Ancient equivalent of a hot water bottle. 

John shrugged. “Mission schedules haven’t changed, McKay. Only objectives.” 

“I will say that it’s about time we did a systematic search of the city for Ancient laboratories. Given their carelessness with dangerous materials, sooner or later one of these facilities is going to explode, or leak, or, hey, remember the darkness creature?” 

“Vaguely,” said John. “So why this lab first?” 

“For one thing, it’s uncomfortably close to personnel quarters.” Rodney gestured meaningfully at the red hazmat suits he’d insisted they both wear. “And the Ancient systems kept directing us to it, so either it’s very very important, or there’s been another malfunction and it’s a grade four classroom.” 

“Well, reading _is_ fundamental.” They walked up another long corridor: the city was happily humming away in the background, and there were no signs of crazed-Ancient-scientist fallout yet. 

“Yes, yes, very clever. What bothers me is that according to the Ancient database there are approximately two hundred and fifty-five scientific facilities in Atlantis, but they’re all spread out over the entire city. Seems very inefficient. You’d think they’d have a science district.” 

“A science district?” 

“Yes. Like Chinatown, only with laboratories. Scienceville. Set it up right, it could even be a tourist destination.” Rodney grinned, suddenly boyish. “Wouldn’t that be great? ‘Hey, kids, let’s go down to Scienceville this weekend and watch the supercollider experiments!’” 

John shook his head, looking down at the hazmat hood he was carrying so Rodney wouldn’t see his smile. “How much further?” 

The tower the Ancient database eventually led them to was different from the others they’d seen. Where most of Atlantis was long anonymous corridors leading into wide rooms, here they walked right into a room that took up the entire first level. There were groups of chairs and couches on the left hand side of the room, and a long white counter to the right. In the center, there was a tile mosaic, with groups of half-dressed Ancients lolling about on a hillside somewhere, eating grapes. 

“Some sort of meeting place for the scientists,” Rodney said. “Much like the faculty lounge we had back at U of T, which reminds me, Colonel, now that we’ve expanded our security perimeter —” 

There was a local version of the transporter to the far right of the room. They secured their hazmat hoods, with Rodney taking an extra minute to triple-check all the fastenings he’d already double-checked when they put the things on, and pushed the button for the top floor. 

“This doesn’t look like a lab,” John said, peering out from the transporter. 

The floor was divided up into two large rooms. One, to their left, was enclosed: through an open doorway he could see glints of white tile in the darkness. The main room, to the right, had a large raised area blocked off by elaborate screens, semi-transparent and elaborately detailed. There was a long curved wall covered by curtains on the right side, where John figured there would have to be some windows, and panels and cabinets lined up along the blank wall across from them. 

“Hmm. Clearly, it’s got to be a very specialized facility. Hey, is that some sort of biohazard area in there?” 

The lights came up, low and inviting, as they walked through the door. 

“A dual-headed decontamination shower. Well, that’s a smart efficiency.” 

“Do labs usually have _saunas_?” 

Rodney jutted his chin in a familiar gesture of defiance. “Just because we’re committed to the life of the mind doesn’t mean that scientists don’t enjoy physical pleasure as well.” 

“McKay! This is some sort of luxury bathroom suite. Which means that whatever this is, it’s not a research lab.” John pulled the hood off his head and took off his gloves, grateful for the chance to wipe off the sweat that was already dripping into his eyes. 

“Fine. Don’t come crying to me when your brain bleeds out through your nose.” 

Rodney sat down on the long padded bench by the showers, running his tests and muttering to himself behind the hood’s lexan shield. John went to check the rest of the space. 

As he walked through the room, dim lights came up in recessed sconces, barely enough to guide him to the curtains. It was warmer in here than in the bathroom, and it smelled different: a sort of tang in the air that reminded him of spice markets and deep woods. When he touched the curtains, they rolled back silently, and he was rewarded with a view of the city beneath them, glittering in the midday sun, and the ocean spread out forever against the sky. There was a wide balcony, almost as large as the room itself, with a table and two chairs, a dry sunken tub, and something that sure looked to John like a drinks cart. This place was _terrific_. The city seemed to share his pleasure in it; she was practically purring in his head as he placed a hand on the glass, and all he had to do was look at the tub quizzically before it started to fill, the swift-moving water leaving bubbles on the surface. 

“Rodney,” he said, and his voice sounded strange even to himself, rough with surprise. “Rodney, you have to see this.” 

Rodney came to the door of the bathroom, his hazmat hood tucked under his arm. He was tapping away at his computer, and he looked up only briefly before going back to his equations. “Well, there’s no nanite or biohazardous particulate in the air in here, which is a relief. So — Colonel! What are you doing?” He broke into an awkward run. “Touching things? Without your gloves on? Are you _insane_?” 

“It’s fine. This place is totally harmless.” 

“You don’t know that!” Rodney pulled John’s right hand off the window with an irritated swipe. “And what’s that smell?” 

There was a noise of old gears turning, and the screens on the raised platform swung slowly open. 

Lights came up from the platform’s base, gently illuminating the largest bed John had ever seen. It wasn’t just long, it was easily four times as wide as the cot in his quarters, and the mattress looked to be twice as thick. The bed was covered in embroidered blankets, and pillows in a dozen different patterns, and the headboard was hidden behind a set of curtains more sheer than mosquito netting. An Ancient tune, something simple plucked out on strings, started to play through hidden speakers. 

“Definitely not a lab,” said John. 

“No, I, uh, most likely not. Something ceremonial? The social scientists will insist on a report,” said Rodney. He hadn’t let go of John’s hand. 

They caught each other’s eye, hesitant for a moment, until John swallowed hard and led Rodney up the platform’s stairs. The steps lit up as his feet landed on them, and flickers of pleasure traveled up his legs with each step. It was hard to maintain his cool while he was being bombarded by sensation: the hazmat suit, at least, hid his arousal. 

“This is… intense,” he said. 

For once, Rodney didn’t say anything. 

The bed was even more amazing close up: there were layers of folded-back covers, with different patterns, whorls of Ancient letters and symbols, in cloth that looked touchable and soft. John let himself brush his fingers across the top layer, a deep blue blanket with a pattern that looked like the night sky. 

“Oh, my God,” said Rodney breathlessly, his eyes wide. He started pulling off his gloves. “Your _hands_.” 

“Yeah, you should try this, it’s…” _More_ , the voice in the back of his head urged. _More_. 

John pulled at the zippers on his hazmat suit, stripping out of it as fast as he could, and then Rodney was fumbling with his own gear, pulling off the heavy boots and stepping out of the red jumpsuit. 

“This is, this is so not in the mission spec.” John had almost managed to shake off the dizzying rush of sensation. But then he noticed that Rodney’s shirt had rolled up a bit at the hem as he was getting out of the hazmat gear, and he had to reach over, push the shirt up higher, run his fingers over warm skin. Rodney shuddered and pulled him in closer. 

“Oh, my God,” Rodney said again, and together they fell onto the bed. 

Every part of John’s body was buzzing with it, pleasure and bone-aching want. He stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could: he needed to put his hands on Rodney, needed to pull off Rodney’s shirt and push down his pants and put himself all over Rodney’s body. When he put his hand around Rodney’s cock, Rodney made a surprised needy noise, and John had to put his mouth on Rodney’s mouth, to take that in too. 

On some level, John knew that this was all a terrible, terrible idea. He’d spent his entire career being careful about who he fucked and where and when, and giving Atlantis’s chief scientist a handjob in broad daylight, on duty, wasn’t being careful at all. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now, and he didn’t want to make himself stop. Not with Rodney pushing into his hand, urgent and hungry. Not with his tongue in Rodney’s mouth, and Rodney touching him all over, warm skin against skin. Rodney shuddered, so John stopped kissing him and concentrated on stroking him rougher, faster, until Rodney’s eyes rolled back and he came hard, his dick twitching for what felt like forever in John’s palm. 

“That was,” Rodney panted, “that was even better — wow.” 

John wiped his hand on the blankets, and shifted his hips meaningfully as he turned back towards Rodney. 

“My turn,” Rodney said, a little dazed, and fell on him. 

When Rodney pushed him back onto the bed, the embroidery of the blankets felt good against his skin, textured enough for a little friction. He rubbed his back against it, riding the itchy achy pleasure, wanting more. Rodney ran a thumb over John’s nipple, teasing just for a moment, before he made his way down the bed. 

Rodney’s mouth was hot and when John bucked up into it, the bed scratched warmth against his back. Rodney put his hands on John’s hipbones, stilling him, steadying him, before he took John in deeper. It made John groan, and he drove his hands into Rodney’s thin soft hair. Rodney was sucking him hard, fast, and John’s whole body was on fire, and he came, came so fast he would have been embarrassed, except Rodney’s mouth tightened around him as he swallowed, and John couldn’t feel anything but the white-hot pleasure behind his eyes. 

Rodney crawled back up John’s body, stopping to place a satisfied kiss at the center of John’s chest, and flopped over next to him on the bed, still breathing hard. John trailed his hand up and down Rodney’s upper arm, lazily tracing the muscle definition Rodney was getting in his shoulders. 

“Would you look at that,” Rodney said. 

John followed Rodney’s wide-eyed look up to the ceiling, where soft pink and white flower petals had begun to drift down towards the bed. As the first few landed, more and more were released: it looked like an extremely girly snowfall. 

“Cool.” John’s eyelids felt heavy, and he let them slide closed. The world went fuzzy, shades of pink and white and blue and the sound of Rodney breathing beside him, and then there was nothing at all.

* * *

He didn’t even realize he’d dozed off until he woke up cotton-mouthed and alone. He sat up with a panicky jolt: Jesus, he was on duty, what had he been thinking? His headset was at the foot of the bed, resting on top of a neatly-stacked pile of his clothes: he scrambled over and shoved it onto his ear. 

“What’s up, sir?” Lorne, cool competence like always. 

“Just checking in,” John said, trying to match his tone. 

“Not to worry, sir. Doctor McKay told me about finding the hot tub with an ocean view. I’d have stayed out there for a few extra hours myself.” 

“He did, did he.” Hours? John looked towards the window: the sun was low on the horizon, turning the sky all red and gold. John picked a flower petal off his chest and as casually as he could said, “I guess I needed an afternoon off myself. Sorry to take one without advance notice, though.” 

“Not a problem, sir. We’re good here.” 

“Good to hear, Major. Sheppard out.” 

John shook his head, trying to clear out the sleep fuzz and the adrenaline burst and the sense of disquiet. He washed up in the dual-headed shower, scrubbing soaplessly at himself so he’d look a little less like he’d had a nooner with a teammate. 

What _had_ he been thinking? Sure, he’d been turned on by the setting and the music and the big Ancient bed, but he was hardly a horny teenager, he could keep it in his pants. And particularly with Rodney — he’d been so amazing, arching off that big beautiful bed as he came, and he’d made noises when he sucked John off that didn’t bear thinking about now, because he was John’s teammate, and even if it hadn’t strictly been fraternization it was too damn close for comfort. John knew better, and Rodney was a genius, he should have figured it out too. John could only hope that they’d get past this with a minimum of fuss. 

The Ancients hadn’t thought to leave out fresh towels before they abandoned the city, so John settled for shaking his hair out like a dog and swiping half-heartedly at the rest of himself with his shirt, bracing a hand against the wall for balance. As soon as his palm touched the tile, the whole thing flashed in front of his eyes again in Technicolor: Rodney coming in his hand, his taste, the heat of his mouth. John stood up straight again, freaked out and hard. As soon as he did, the images stopped, like someone flipped a switch. That was even freakier. 

He swallowed and carefully reached for the wall again. The sensations flooded him instantly: Rodney’s tongue against his cock, Rodney’s sex-dazed smile, Rodney’s kiss, demanding and warm. John pulled his hand back. All that was left was his own heart, thumping too hard inside his chest. 

Cautiously, he made his way back out into the main room. There were still flower petals on the floor and on the stairs, though the ceiling panel above the bed had closed. _Show yourself, goddammit,_ John thought. _Show me what you did._ Then the risers on the stairs were sliding back, revealing complex wiring and machinery, and the inside wall changed from solid to a fine mesh. Behind it, he could see a set of ventilation tubes. The tubes belched at him, almost apologetically, and a familiar tangy scent wafted back into the room. 

“We’re going to wait to talk about this in my quarters,” John told the city, hearing his father in his voice and for once not minding it at all. “But you are _so_ busted.” 


	2. Chapter 2

John checked in with the control room when he got back, trying to assuage his guilt and give himself a little time to think. Now that he knew the city had helped push him and Rodney into bed, a lot of the weird stuff that had been happening lately was starting to make a stomach-churning sort of sense. The accidents that kept throwing two of them together. The mood lighting in the science labs. The way he kept hearing someone playing “Moonlight Becomes You” when he walked the city’s halls. They hadn’t accidentally stumbled into some Ancient sex lair — Atlantis had been trying to hook him up with Rodney for _weeks_. 

“What kind of sick bastards were those goddamned Ancients?” he demanded as soon as the door to his quarters closed behind him. “Did they program you like this? Or are you water-damaged?” 

Atlantis reached out to him, and he felt her apology as he was hit by a wave of benevolence. Concern. Warmth. 

“I don’t care if you meant well,” he said, a bit calmer. “I want to know why you thought it would be OK for you to meddle in my life.” 

The answer was a wave of loneliness so intense it left him choking and hollow. 

When it finally passed, he glared at the walls. “I am _not_ lonely.” 

In the bathroom, the lights went on, and the shower started. It took him a few seconds to figure that one out. “Oh, hey. That’s private,” he said, his face flushing hot. “And totally irrelevant.” 

Atlantis’s skepticism was like a tickle up and down his spine. 

“Seriously,” John said, as stern as if his own living quarters hadn’t just tried to use his jerking-off habits to win a debate with him. “Don’t mess with a man’s morning shower. That’s off-limits from now on. And so’s after lights-out. You know what, just stay out of my head altogether, OK? Just generally stay the hell out.” 

The city didn’t respond to that at all, so John thought _Out! Out! OFF!_ until it finally got the message. When she did finally pull away, sliding backwards out of reach, John felt a sickening shudder of loss: like the time he’d had a tooth pulled, only worse. The gaping hole was on the inside this time, and he was half a breath from taking it all back, welcoming Atlantis back in again, until he thought of the conversation he was going to have to have about all this with Rodney. That snapped him out of it fast. 

He pulled his shoulders straight, all military resolve. “And leave McKay out of your head games too. He’s our chief scientist, not your goddamn puppet.” 

The lights flickered on and off, once, in what he hoped was agreement. 

“Well, uh. Good. Glad we could agree on that,” he said, and turned to go. It was awkward as hell, but he’d never been any good at breakups. 

* * *

After a workout and a shower, John was more than ready for dinner, although less ready for the pretty much inevitable run-in with Rodney at the mess hall. There was really no way to put a positive spin on this story. _Hey, funny story, Atlantis decided I needed to get laid — and with you, McKay! Hilarious, huh?_ He had a throbbing headache, and he was tired, and the temptation to scrounge up a stray powerbar from somewhere in his gear and save the conversation for another time was pretty strong. But it wasn’t like it was going to get easier if he waited till the morning, so he took an aspirin and headed out. 

Rodney was sitting with Zelenka and Elizabeth. He flushed a little but he didn’t object when John slid his tray of institutional lasagna and wilted salad onto the table across from him. 

“No, Rodney, Dr. Weir is correct,” Zelenka was saying. “We need better system for prioritizing new research.” 

“We can’t pre-prioritize what we don’t understand,” Rodney shot back. 

“He’s got a point. This city is full of surprises,” John said. 

Rodney looked down at his tray. 

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Speaking of which, Rodney was telling us that the two of you had quite a surprise on today’s mission.” 

John was halfway to panicking, but there was no smirk in Elizabeth’s smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t a lab after all. We kind of came across the Ancient equivalent of a luxury hotel.” 

“Really?” Elizabeth looked intrigued. “Perhaps it’s where they put up visiting dignitaries.” 

“Maybe. Or, you know, sometimes you want a change of scenery.” John took a bite of his lasagna and tried to look innocent. Rodney kept staring at his food. 

The conversation shifted back to the workings of the science division, and John nodded along, half-listening. When the others had finally said their goodnights, he and Rodney looked at each other and got up to leave without saying a word. 

“Where can we talk?” John asked quietly. 

Rodney jerked his head, a familiar _follow me_ , and led John back to his lab. 

John made sure the door was locked while Rodney bustled around to all his machines, taking notes and muttering over readouts. Eventually, Rodney took a deep breath and turned back around to face him. 

“Thanks for covering for me,” John said, jumping in as Rodney opened his mouth to speak. 

Rodney’s mouth snapped shut, and he moved through a few more attempts to start a sentence before he finally shook his head. “No problem. You were pretty sound asleep.” 

“Yeah. I guess I was.” John sighed. “Look…” 

“If this is the ‘I’ll never make general if they find out I like dick’ speech, you can rest assured —” 

“What?” Conversations with Rodney never went the way he planned, he needed to remember that. “I’m not going to make general anyway, Rodney. And who’ve you been hearing that speech from besides me?” 

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Rodney shot back. 

John pinched the bridge of his nose to fight back the headache the discussion was already giving him. “I’m not… that’s not the point. Would you let me talk?” 

Rodney folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening.” 

“Look, it’s my responsibility to keep my team secure, and this afternoon was not me doing my job. Whatever was going on there,” and John stuttered a little, forcing the lie through his throat, “it wasn’t something that should have happened. So I wanted to make sure you were OK.” 

“I’m fine.” Rodney’s posture had gotten stiffer, and his chin was tilted up at a defiant angle, so he wasn’t fine at all, but John figured he was entitled to whatever dignity he could claim out of this situation. 

“Well, OK. I’m still sorry. And, you know, if there’s anything you need, anything I can do…” 

“I said I’m fine.” Rodney shook his head. “The scanner must have missed something, because for you, for both of us to…” 

“That place was set up to make that happen. I think it must’ve been the Ancient honeymoon suite,” John said. He was such a goddamn chicken, but if Rodney wanted to give him an out and talk about how instead of why, John was going to hold onto it with both hands. 

Rodney thought about this for a minute, his eyes going narrow. “Hm. That could explain it. The scanner wasn’t set up to find, say, something that would strengthen the libido, or override rational decision-making processes. Did you, what do you call it, sense anything?” 

“Me? No. I didn’t sense anything. I was overwhelmed.” And he had been, at the time, he reminded himself. “I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.” 

“Right.” Rodney swallowed hard. “I’ll put it on the list for further research as time allows — we should see if there’s anything we can learn from the technologies it uses.” 

“That’s good. Just make sure whoever goes up there leaves their hazmat suit on this time.” 

They managed to laugh a little bit together at that, awkward and forced but laughter all the same. “We’re OK?” John asked. 

Rodney gave him a long, level look, and John wished he could believe he’d noticed how blue Rodney’s eyes were before Atlantis got in his head. “We’re fine,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” 

* * *

“Colonel Sheppard, we are waiting for you in Dr. McKay’s lab.” Zelenka’s voice in his headset was starting to sound impatient. 

“Hold on. I’ve got to parallel park this thing first.” John bit down on a grunt of frustration and took another pass at docking the jumper. The automatic systems usually took over once the jumpers were inside the city, but nothing was working right for him these days. He’d figured it would take some time to readjust to not having Atlantis in head all the time, but it had been close to a week and things hadn’t gotten even a little bit better yet. 

It was fifteen minutes before he walked up to the laboratory door He took a long deep breath, shaking off the irritation from the lousy landing. He’d been steering clear of the science division all week, trying to give Rodney some space, and he didn’t want to walk in there pissy. As he opened the door, he plastered on his most ingratiating smile. 

“Reporting for duty. What can I do for you, Radek?” 

Zelenka and Rodney were arguing across one of the worktables, surrounded by a cluster of scientists who were somewhere between taking sides and taking bets, same as always. Zelenka broke off as soon as he heard John’s voice. 

“Colonel Sheppard! Come see. We have found a device we think may be tied to a system that would allow Atlantis to perform very many repairs on itself.” There was a shiny metallic device resting on the worktable; it looked like a hand drill without a bit. 

“That’d be a handy trick.” John leaned over to examine the thing more closely. Rodney looked away. 

“It would be,” Rodney said in a clipped tone, not looking up, “if Zelenka were right, which he isn’t.” 

John shrugged. “Well, no harm in trying, right?” 

“There’s plenty of harm in — fine. Try.” 

John wrapped his hand around what seemed to be the device’s handle, and waited. Nothing happened. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch, even Rodney, so he smiled reassuringly at them all before he tried thinking _turn on, wake up_ at the thing. Usually, Ancient tech jumped to life at that, or stayed totally inert, drained after thousands of years spent idle. This device wasn’t dead — John could feel its power, waiting. But it didn’t turn on. 

“No?” Zelenka asked. His face was full of resignation and hopefulness, like maybe John was just looking for the perfect moment to do his magic trick. 

“I’m sorry.” John tried again. _Wake up! Please?_ Nothing happened. 

“I never thought it was part of the self-repair system in the first place,” Rodney said, as he stood up. “It’s a waste of his time, dragging the colonel all the way over here for these wild goose chases that aren’t backed up by careful research.” 

The other scientists were already headed back to their workstations, or out the door. Rodney walked back to his laptop and opened the lid. 

“I don’t mind,” John tried. 

Rodney frowned down at his computer screen. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have to.” 

The Ancient device beeped once, as if in agreement, and went silent again. 

* * *

John got used to dealing with the city the same way everyone else did, but the feeling that something was missing didn’t go away. Evenings found him prowling the city, itchy and on guard, checking every passing shadow for bad news. He trained harder with Teyla, got good enough to knock her down a couple of times, and put extra time into weapons training and drills. 

He and Rodney were working fine together, that was great, but they weren’t hanging out anymore, and he was realizing he didn’t have that many other things he did off-duty. Some nights he’d sign out a jumper for the early morning hours so he could catch the dawn on his surfboard, red sun on his shoulders as he waited for his wave. Some mornings he ran by himself down by the west pier, past the empty docking slips and the quiet marina. But he would come back to the center of the city with the same unsettled feeling, like he was rattling around inside his own body, and the sheer range of the unexplored sections of the city had started to feel like a burden rather than a gift. 

Which was probably why when the Pinarans, longtime trading partners of the Athosians, sent word that they were holding a feast to celebrate having survived the latest round of Wraith cullings, John volunteered to go along as the representative of Atlantis. 

Elizabeth leaned back in her desk chair and gave him a small bemused smile. “Try not to trade away all of our supplies again, hmm?” 

“Hey, we really needed those magic beans.” He practically jumped off his perch on the edge of her desk. “I promise I’ll let Teyla do most of the talking.” 

The party was held in a huge fortress called Pinarev, where the royals held court, and which they rebuilt after every culling. Teyla explained that all of the Pinarans served in their military for two years, and lived in the fortress during that time. There was more, about their army and their king, but John wasn’t really paying attention. The fortress looked way too whole for the headquarters of a people who’d put up more than a token resistance to the Wraith. There were new scorch marks on the old stone, and one of the upper towers had been destroyed, but it was otherwise in a lot better shape than Atlantis had been after the siege. Bright banners flew triumphantly from the parapets, with the king’s crest, a fierce-looking bird, at the center. 

John squinted up at the display. “Do you know what they have for defenses? Drones, shields?” 

Teyla frowned. “They have what any of us have had: their cunning. But nothing from the Ancestors.” 

“Then why keep rebuilding?” 

She shook her head at him. “It is the center of their culture. It is their home.” 

As the walked into the fortress, they were greeted with formal words and floral wreaths, which were placed on their heads with embarrassing seriousness. Cheerful music played them into the huge great hall, and they were offered food and drink. Teyla was quickly surrounded by men and women who greeted her by name, chattering excitedly about people and places John had never heard her mention, so he leaned back against the nearest pillar and observed. 

The fortress really wasn’t Ancient: no signs of the tech, no response when he reached out to it. Maybe there was some other technology, or the stone was particularly resistant to the Wraith’s blasters. Rodney would have remembered to bring along a scanner to find out. John only had his P90. He took another glass of the local brew, and tried to reason it out. 

Three more glasses, the music had changed to some sort of dance tune, and all John had figured out about Pinarev was that it wasn’t set up the way he’d design a fortress. If he were building a fortress, he’d make it more like Atlantis’s control tower, with the key control functions at the center instead of some dance hall. He’d give it well-distributed, redundant power supplies, none of this jerry-rigged wiring all out in the open that would’ve given Rodney an aneurysm. He’d —- _ah, fuck, John,_ he told himself, finishing another drink, _why not give it a brain and a tendency to meddle while you’re at it?_

On the far side of the room, he came across a table laden with food: simple, plain stews and meats, rustic bread, and fruit. He was making himself a sandwich when Teyla found him. Her face was flushed with the heat and happiness, and the wreath on her head was a little askew. It was a good look on her. 

“Colonel!” she said breathlessly. “I must introduce you to the king.” 

“It’ll keep. You’re having fun?” 

She beamed, and he couldn’t help smiling back. It was a sad reason to throw a party, to celebrate the fact that not all of your people were dead, but it was worth celebrating, and it was so damn nice to be part of what little happiness the Pegasus galaxy could spare. 

“Hey,” he asked, suddenly inspired, “you know these dances?” 

“I do, but, Colonel, I am not sure we should —” 

“Oh, come on.” She stopped protesting when they were out among the dancers, but the concerned look didn’t leave her face until he’d managed a few rounds of the movements successfully. She relaxed even more as the song went on, and when the music shifted to something slower, she just showed him the new steps, and moved with him in the changed rhythm. 

Soon enough John was relaxing into the movement as well, resting his hands easily on Teyla’s hips as she let her hands light on his upper arms. There were a lot of people dancing now, flirtatious kids and settled-looking older couples and some who looked embarrassed to be standing so close to each other at all. A few feet away from them, a young man and woman, both with newly-bandaged battle wounds, danced close and drunk. The woman had a dazed, satisfied smile, and when she placed a kiss on her partner’s breastbone, he rested his head against hers, whispering something John couldn’t make out. 

“ _Colonel_.” 

Teyla’s urgent whisper and grip on his arms snapped him out of his reverie, and he realized that he’d moved closer to her in turn. His hands were spread against her back, nearly spanning her small frame. He could feel her breath as it moved against her ribs, a wave beneath the skin. 

“Colonel. It is not appropriate.” 

“Does it have to be?” Teyla’s skin was soft, and her breath was warm, and God, he was so hungry for it, it hurt. “We’re a long way from Atlantis. Maybe we could take a break from appropriate. Just for tonight.” 

He leaned his head in towards hers, but she pulled back, and the look in her eyes made him feel suddenly ill. “Colonel. _John_. I know you do not mean offense, but I cannot forget my responsibility to my people. Surely you understand.” 

“Yeah.” He took a half step back, giving her room. “Usually, that’s my line.” 

* * *

They traded a promise of a week’s fishing on Pinasa’s rich seas for the promise of medical supplies and root vegetables to be brought with them when they returned, and Elizabeth told them to call the mission a success. Teyla gave him an Athosian farewell, touching foreheads to let him know there were no hard feelings, but he felt like a creep for having presumed on their friendship in the first place. 

He went back to his quarters, which felt empty and still. Lonely. 

“Goddammit,” he said, kicking at his desk chair. 

The lights went softer, sympathetic. 

“Yeah. I get that.” 

He could feel the city, cautiously hopeful around him. A window opened on the other side of his quarters, and a warm breeze came in, salty and sweet. 

“But you have to stay out of my personal life. Let me take care of that myself.” 

Atlantis’s acquiescence was shot through with something that felt an awful lot like amusement. 

“Oh, like your idea was so much better,” John muttered. “You know, he’s not even a real doctor.” 

* * *

Things went more or less back to normal after that. The city hummed around him again, maybe a little quieter than before but there, like a friend he’d been missing. Everything worked perfectly: doors opened smoothly, the jumpers sang under his touch, and even Zelenka’s drill thing turned on, and turned out to be part of the city’s self-repair system after all. John was sorry he missed the gloat-fest in the labs over that one. 

Things with Rodney were still kind of weird. He did his job, both in Atlantis and off-world, but he was keeping as clear of John as he could. One mission to Beltan, Rodney spent the entire trip explaining the principles of calculus to Ronon, who looked confused but game. Back on Atlantis, Rodney was even more skittish, making awkward excuses to be where John wasn’t, watching him warily in meetings when he didn’t think John would notice. John didn’t push. Rodney had every right to be freaked out for as long as he wanted. As long as John could keep him from finding out the whole gory truth, they’d be friends again eventually. Rodney would come around. 

“Do your soldiers need me to count to ten thousand for them before they get the message that this is a very old city?” Rodney fumed. He pulled another set of wires loose and put his hand out for the pliers. “I have a rotating ten-person maintenance crew, and when I say maintenance crew, I mean scientists with Ph.D.s from universities even the international soldiers have heard of, not your standard hulks with mops. And that’s just for the general wear and tear. Because strangely enough, when I was planning the work schedule for my extremely skilled if frequently boneheaded team, I didn’t take into consideration the possibility that a pack of uniformed apes would decide to set up a basketball hoop on the side of the control tower!” 

“There’s a lot of hurry-up-and-wait around here if you’re not a scientist,” John said. Rodney was going to need a flat-headed screwdriver next, so he reached into the toolbox for it. 

“Cry me a river. Even Marines should be able to amuse themselves without resorting to vandalism.” Rodney took the screwdriver, twisted a few connectors tight, and shuffled two crystals into new positions. “And that should… OK.” He closed the panel door and rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. “Give it fifteen minutes for the reboot, and it should be fine.” 

“Fifteen minutes?” John asked incredulously. 

“It’s a low-priority system. We wait for Atlantis’s control system to cycle through its self-diagnostic, realize the panel’s ready to come online, and bring it back. The best way to jumpstart it, in contrast, would involve cutting power to three labs, your ready room, and the level five lavatories.” 

Rodney hadn’t talked to him like this in weeks, like he was worth taking the time to explain stuff to. “Still. That’s a long wait.” 

“Yes, well, the phenomenon of hurry up and wait is hardly unique to the military.” 

“I can’t imagine you being any more patient than the Marines were,” John said. 

“I’m not. But unlike them, I know how to cope with it. I always have multiple experiments going on simultaneously — and of course I have my supervisory responsibilities as well. Otherwise, astrophysics would have bored me to tears long ago. I had a friend who spent an entire extra year in grad school waiting to see if the deep-space phenomenon he’d predicted actually took place.” Rodney shook his head ruefully, like he was talking about a cousin who’d taken up shoplifting. “A year!” 

Rodney hardly ever talked about his past. John appreciated that, and wasn’t going to push. But there was something about his tone of voice that was familiar. “Was this your friend at Mauna Kea?” 

“What? Oh. Oh, yes, yes. That was him. My, uh. Elliott.” He said the name like it was hard to let go of. 

“So what’d you do with all that spare time?” John asked, leaning back against the wall. He gave Rodney his best guileless look. 

Rodney wasn’t buying it, but John kept at it until he relented with a wry smile. “Just the usual. Conferences. Papers. And he, ah, he made a project out of teaching me the names of all the constellations.” 

“You didn’t know them already?” It was hard to imagine that there was anything scientific that Rodney couldn’t spit out at high speed when they needed it. 

“A few. They’re mostly irrelevant to my work,” Rodney shrugged. “Though I’ll admit some of them do have a certain poetry.” 

John craned his head back until the spires of Atlantis and the night sky beyond it were all he could see. The stars here were spread out in unfamiliar patterns, but there were groups and clusters that seemed like they belonged together anyhow. “Did the Ancients give names to these constellations?” 

Rodney snorted. “As if the Ancients would do anything so essentially frivolous.” 

Atlantis nudged at John’s mind, miffed. 

“You sure?” John asked. 

“We could always name them ourselves if it’s so important to you.” 

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t naming anything ever again, Rodney.” 

“You agreed. I’ll have you know that I’ve named three sub-space phenomena in the last half-year alone.” 

“Sub-space phenomena don’t need good names.” 

“Talk about your unfair, ignorant —” 

“Fine! So name one.” 

“Well…” 

“And if you say ‘Spock,’ I’m never helping you with a repair again.” 

“I was actually going to suggest Ganesh.” Rodney pointed up and to the left. “You see that cluster of stars in the northwest, like points on a curve? It could be an elephant’s trunk.” 

“Ganesh?” John repeated, dumbfounded. 

Rodney folded his arms in a gesture of complete superiority. “Canada _is_ a multicultural society.” 

“So tell me something about Ganesh.” 

“Oh, what do I look like, an encyclopedia? He’s an Indian myth who looks like an elephant. Most of what I know about it I learned from _The Simpsons_.” 

“‘Please do not offer my god a peanut.’” 

John’s Apu imitation was beyond lame, but Rodney chuckled anyway, and John had to smile back in turn. Being happy lit Rodney up from the inside. It hit John all at once, like a body blow: his smile, his scent, sweet beneath the sharp laundry smell, how strong his hands had been, pressing down on John’s hips. 

He breathed in sharply, surprised. Rodney turned to him, curious and way too close, and John reached blindly for his headset. “Sheppard,” he said into the dead mic. “What? OK. Hold on.” He gave Rodney a serious look and said, “Military business. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He double-timed it about fifty yards down the path until he came to a turn. As soon as he was out of Rodney’s sight, he turned to the nearest control panel, its status lights placidly amber. “We had a _deal_ ,” he hissed. 

The city gave him innocence, which just disgusted him. 

“You think I wouldn’t recognize the same trick a second time?” 

Atlantis flooded him with goodwill so powerful his knees buckled, but he knew it was a sham now. “I can’t believe — those fucking Ancients and their know-it-all machines.” He pressed his hands flat against the wall, willing her to feel his anger and frustration. “It’s not like that. We’re not. I don’t — and anyway, even if I did, Rodney wouldn’t. He’s just barely talking to me again after that last stunt.” 

The city pushed back, fighting with him a little. He pushed harder. 

“No,” he said sternly. “ _No_. You’re bored, work on flying again. But leave me and McKay alone.” 

“Colonel?” 

John tried to will Atlantis into swallowing him whole where he stood, but she really never listened to him about the important stuff. 

“Colonel?” Rodney said again. “Were you —?” 

“What are you doing here?” John asked. “Didn’t I say I had a private call?” 

“The fake radio call trick works a lot better when your hand actually touches the receiver. And, much more to the point, were you just talking to _Atlantis_?” 

John gave him a disbelieving sneer. “Atlantis? No.” 

“You were!” Rodney snapped his fingers as he put it together. “Your expression of the ATA gene is powerful enough that the city doesn’t merely respond to you, it communicates with you. In English? Does it use English, or symbols, or — can you even understand Ancient?” 

“McKay!” 

“You’re right, that’s not the most important issue. What were you saying to it about me?” 

“I wasn’t talking to the city at all,” John said through clenched teeth. 

Rodney waved his hands dismissively. “Please. We’re past that point and into the intelligent section of this discussion now.” 

“We’re in the _finished_ section of this discussion.” John started walking back to the repair site, but Rodney grabbed his arm to stop him. Rodney really was getting stronger: his fingers gripped hard enough on John’s upper arm to hurt. John stopped and glared and waited. 

“Colonel,” Rodney said, “you were talking to the city about me, and as a resident of the city, I think I have a right to know what it thinks of me. The levels of damage it could do to my experiments if it decided to — all my data could be corrupted already without me knowing it. Everything we’ve done here is at risk.” 

Rodney was starting to panic, and that was the last straw. John had seen Rodney freaked out and scared plenty of times, but usually there was a good reason for it, one Rodney could be counted on to fix. And if there wasn’t a good reason, at least it was usually funny. But this wasn’t funny at all, this was John’s _fault_ , and he couldn’t do this to Rodney if he could help it. 

“She’s not messing with your data,” he muttered. “You’re fine.” 

“I knew it. I _knew_ it!” Rodney paused for a second, considering. “She?” 

“Let it go, McKay. We’re done here.” 

“So what does ‘she’ have to say about me?” 

“She thinks you’re a real pain in the ass. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten that from.” 

Rodney refused to rise to the bait. “‘Leave me and McKay alone,’ you said. Now, were you talking about each of us individually, or as a — the _sex room!_ ” 

John flinched. “A little louder?” 

“The sex room!” Rodney repeated in a completely unrepentant whisper. “That was no malfunction. It sent us there on purpose. The question is why.” 

John shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “How would I know?” 

“Because it talks to you!” Rodney was so worked up by now he was practically exploding out of his skin. “It probably likes taking long walks on the pier with you, discussing how your day went. The whole damn city lights up and does tricks for you, it always has.” 

“Jealous?” 

“God, yes. But that’s not the point. The question is what made the city think that its favorite pet human, who can’t even step offworld without alien babes throwing themselves at his manly feet, would want or need a hook-up you’re so embarrassed by you’ve been avoiding me ever since, not to mention — oh!” Rodney’s eyes widened in surprise. “You like me.” 

“I do not!” John protested. 

“No, no, it works.” Rodney raised a finger, thinking it through. 

“I am not one of your lab projects, Rodney. You can’t just do the math.” Jesus, it had been so much easier when he only knew other pilots. “Look, I’m sorry if I made you think I was embarrassed, I never meant —” 

“Actually,” Rodney said, somehow managing to sound both impressed and smug at the same time, “it’s a fairly elegant solution.” 

“Elegant?” 

“Oh, fine, yes, perverse as well, but if you think about it from the city’s perspective, it makes a lot of sense. It had both sides of the problem, so it just needed to put them together.” Rodney came in close enough that John could feel his breath hot and fast against his cheek. “To work the equation,” Rodney said, and then he leaned in for a kiss. 

It was a pushy kiss, messy and raw, and the only way to deal with Rodney when he was being pushy was to fight back or give in completely. John shoved at his shoulders till he stopped. 

“The city —” John said, warning. 

“It’s not the city.” 

Rodney was already unbuckling the holster from John’s belt. The tips of his fingers dipped promisingly under John’s waistband as he got some leverage on the holster snaps, but John wasn’t going to give into the rush of it this time, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Atlantis dig his friendship with Rodney into an even deeper hole than they were already in: he’d never get out, and he needed this to be over, for them to be comfortable with each other again. 

“Rodney. Stop this,” he said. He tried for the commanding-officer voice, but it sounded shaky and unconvincing. “We’re going to get you out of here. You don’t have to do anything.” 

“I never _had_ to.” Rodney’s right hand came up against John’s neck, and his thumb stroked carefully up and down the side of John’s face. John held himself still. “John, no. I never had to. The city didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. All it did was lower my inhibitions. Radically lower them, it’s true. But that’s all.” 

John tried not to be convinced. “But that room…” 

“I guess you were, uh, attracted?” Rodney’s hands stilled, and he sounded uncharacteristically tentative. “And Atlantis knew, I don’t know, maybe because I had the gene therapy, maybe Radek’s right that I’m really obvious about you. Although he’s one to talk. You can see that torch he’s carrying for Elizabeth from orbit, I should take pictures.” 

“Obvious? You wanted me?” 

“I would have thought the fact that I’m still trying to disentangle you from your pants would have been a tip-off. But yes,” Rodney said, finally pulling John’s belt buckle open, “I did. I do. And apparently the city put two and two together.” 

John still couldn’t make it all make sense. “She didn’t force you?” 

“The city did not force me to have sex with you.” Rodney was usually a lot more scathing when John couldn’t keep up with him. But he was being as close to patient as he ever got, meeting John’s eyes directly and overenunciating a little, like he was talking to someone whose English wasn’t very good. “It didn’t force either of us. Did it?” 

And that was so Rodney, to cut right through the unnecessary stuff and get to the important question. The one thing John hadn’t let himself think about, couldn’t let himself want, not with the way things had gone down between them. But now, with Rodney looking at him like that, the answer was easy. “No,” he said, “no. I wanted —” 

Before he could even finish saying it, Rodney was diving in for another kiss, and this time John grabbed him, took Rodney’s head in his hands and kissed him as deep as he could. It was like having a weight off his chest he hadn’t even known he was carrying around: he felt practically buoyant, drunk on possibility. Rodney grabbed John’s ass, and pressed himself up against John’s hip, hot and hard already, and this was going to be the best thing ever. 

Something attached to Rodney’s belt beeped, sharp insistent little blares. John fumbled for it until Rodney pulled away enough to find it and turn it off. “The control panel,” he explained between nipping kisses to John’s jaw line. “Fifteen minutes are up. I’m sure it’s fine.” 

John snapped back to where they were, and what they were doing. “Rodney,” he said, pushing him away again, this time slowly and reluctantly, “wait, no, not here. Too public.” 

Behind him, he heard a door slide open. 

“Well, that’s handy,” said Rodney. 

John turned to see a storage closet, deep and empty-shelved, where there had just been wall before. Rodney started walking into it, pushing John ahead of him a little, and John wrapped his hands around Rodney’s hips and let himself be walked backwards through the doorway. As he stepped inside, he caught his heel and stumbled, pulling them both backwards till he ended up slammed against the far wall, Rodney’s hands bracing him on either side. 

Rodney looked up towards the ceiling with something like awe. “Thanks,” he said. “I can take it from here.” 

Atlantis shut the door and dimmed the lights. 

“She’s not going to watch, is she? I mean, that’d be kind of kinky,” Rodney said. John just kissed him, again and again. “Not that kinky is bad! I’m not against kinky in any way. Oh, God, _John_ …” 

Rodney’s hands were so fast and sure. John had always admired them, watching Rodney hotwire a Wraith ship or repair a power conduit or pull their fat out of any number of fires. He admired those hands even more now, as Rodney carefully put John’s sidearm on a storage shelf and proceeded to pull down his pants and boxers to the top of his thigh holster. And then Rodney’s hands were on him, and they weren’t fast at all as they cupped his balls, traced the hair down the inside of his thighs, stroked at the base of his dick. John was achingly hard way too soon; he swallowed down a groan and pressed back against the wall for support. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t know. The things I’ve imagined doing to you,” Rodney was saying, and John wanted to know what they were, wanted to try every last one of them. He bit at Rodney’s shoulder, enjoying the smell and the taste of him as he worried the soft pale skin, and Rodney finally wrapped his hand around John’s dick. His hand was strong and hot and slick, and he was working John like they’d been doing this forever. John pulled at Rodney’s belt loops, trying to bring him closer, but Rodney pulled down his own pants instead, and that was a better idea. 

Rodney started jerking them both off together, confident strong strokes, and John’s whole brain was lighting up with it, bright flares of sensation. The wall was warm behind him, and he could feel the city riding the sensation alongside him, then echoing it back, like waves on a beach. He put one palm flat against the storage room wall, and his other arm around Rodney’s neck, and he held on.


End file.
